


I Love You, Honeybear

by SpicefullyYours



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Begging, Choking, Fluff, Oneshot, Other, PWP, Praise Kink, Smut, Songfic, gender neutral reader, more towards the end tho, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 11:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18072203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicefullyYours/pseuds/SpicefullyYours
Summary: Connor can’t help but admire how beautiful you are as you fall apart.





	I Love You, Honeybear

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Father John Misty (title is his song/album), a thirst for our fav Android from CyberLife, and the sadness of losing an hour of sleep bc of daylight savings— but mainly the first two. 10/10 would recommend listening to the song while reading, anywho this is my first smut, so feedback is appreciated!! (*'▽'*)

* * *

_Oh, honeybear, honeybear, honeybear Ooh-ooh_

 

“What are you?”

His pace is ruthless _._ Connor grunts, thrusting into you relentlessly while you moan and beg beneath him.

 

_Mascara blood_

_Ash and cum_

_On the Rorschach sheets were we make love_

 

Your cries spur him on, a delicious symphony of pain and pleasure. Countless pleas wanton with lust, desire, and the insatiable need to be fucked. He doesn’t care about all the noise or shuffling, the bedpost banging against the wall while it shifts out of place. Consideration was for another time, he supposed. Right now in this moment, all he cares about is you.

 

_Honeybear, honeybear, honeybear Ooh-ooh_

 

He looks down at you, feeling accomplished knowing he’s responsible for the mess he’s making of you.

You’re a crumpled mess with your legs over his shoulders, arms cuffed to the bedposts, and a blindfold over your eyes.

“I’m yours.”

You know that’s the answer he wants, and he knows you’re telling the truth. He kisses you so hard it pushes your head back onto the pillows and you lose your breath. The kiss is hungry, _greedy._

Suddenly, his lips aren’t on yours anymore. The hot and wet sensation trails down your jaw, neck, to your nipples.

“What do you want?”

His pace and touch slows, rolling a nipple in one hand while sucking on the other. His tongue twirls around sinfully before he mouths the tip.

“You, Connor. I only want you. ” 

He perks up at this, you feel it.

The sensation is no longer hot, but now it burns as he alternates between pinching and biting, licking over the strained areas and going softer on you before inflicting pain again. 

Like a fiddle, he plays with you and tugs at the strings that hold together what little integrity you already have. He listens to your cries like it’ll be the last thing he’ll ever listen to, you being the last instrument he would ever be able to fine tune to perfection.

“You feel so good, Connor.”

He picks up the pace, eager with your praise. He’s so close, yet so far— pounding so hard and _fast_ your eyes roll back behind the blindfold. With your legs hooked onto his shoulders, he’s drilling so deep into you that you take every bit of him in. You shudder, toes curling at the feeling building up inside you. You don’t want it to end. You know what praise does to him, and so you do it again.

“You’re so good to me, baby.”

His fingers dig into your flesh, his hips snapping so hard it feels good. You’re seeing stars behind your own eyelids. Incoherent cries and begging escape your lips.

The rattling of your restraints grabs his attention. You’re desperate to touch him, the cuffs digging into your wrists as you push them towards him. You’re coming undone, but it’s just the beginning for him. It isn’t enough, he thinks, he wants—no, _needs_ more. With you, there’s no such thing as mercy. He wants you to cry and beg. He wants you to succumb to his touch as he thrusts into you. He wants to break you, _ruin_ you.

 

_Fuck the world damn straight malaise_

_It may be just us who feel this way_

 

“Beg.”

His fingers wrap around the base of your throat. You moan in acceptance, slightly muted by the breathiness that follows. He squeezes harder, your moans increasing in pitch as you noisily urge him to continue.

“Please, Connor.”

His audio processors pick up the small noise. He wants to see just how much you mean it when you beg. He’s close, so close that he can’t keep this up any longer. He’s impatient. He removes the blindfold, tossing it aside an unknown corner of your shared room. 

By RA9, you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You were both a nonsensical mess, bedsheets and mattress strewn around. But _you,_ you are the most exquisite disaster he’s ever laid eyes on. Your hair was splayed out on the pillows like a small halo. Your wrists are getting darker as they strain against the cuffs in an attempt to touch him. He looks at your lips, bruised from the force of his kisses. You’re sweating, glowing— sporting the slick sheen made by the friction of your two bodies. Tears are spilling from your eyes and melding with the sweat. He’s fascinated by the sight of you— eyes brightening in the dark blur of his full blown lust for you.

 

_But don't ever doubt this, my steadfast conviction_

 

His pace is still ruthless as he drills into you, fingers digging into your neck and cutting off your air supply— but you’re smiling. Your lips are curled up, forming a grin. He notices the trail of tears that he follows up to your eyes. And by RA9, Connor is willing to get lost in them.

 

_My love, you're the one I want to watch the ship go down with_

 

You’re looking at him likes he’s the world to you. There’s reassurance, comfort, _affection_ in your eyes. He sees love in you, and you in him.

His rhythm stutters for just a second.

“Please,” you urge him again.

He slows down again, just enough for him to release you from the handcuffs. You waste no time in grasping onto him for dear life, raking your nails down his back and grabbing his hair.

Your eyes almost roll back with the snap of his hips and the added pressure of his fingers on your throat. In the haze of your pleasure you still find it in yourself to look into his eyes with pure adoration. You cradle his face in one hand.  

“I love you.”

 

_The future can't be real, I barely know how long a moment is_

 

He speeds up again, and this time it’s brutal.Your eyes shut and you almost shriek at the sensation of his cock inside you; long, thick, and hard. You would’ve thanked whoever designed him if your words weren’t getting fucked out of you.

Both of his arms are by your head, bracing himself as he fucks you into the mattress. You let go of his face, hands scrambling to grab the sheets before wrapping your arms around his neck: the futile attempt of grounding yourself as he desperately forces your bodies to get impossibly closer. 

You shudder as you feel heat growing in the pit of your core, trying to place your head between his neck and shoulder as you near climax, but he doesn’t let you. A hand grabs your hair by the nape of your neck to bare yourself to him. He wants to see you come, wants to see you fall apart.

 

_Everything is doomed, and nothing will be spared_ _  
_ _But I love you, honeybear_

 

“Say that again.”

You almost don’t hear him amidst your own melodic cries. He tugs harder. You’re howling at this point. You want all of him, every bit of him at once, but you just can’t take it anymore.

“Tell me you love me.”

Your mind is foggy. Between the cock inside you, the heat radiating from both of you, and his hot breath by your neck and ear— you were beyond overwhelmed. Your body ached, and just like you it begged for some kind of release.

But you love him. With no rhyme or reason, it was easy to say it when it was the truth. You love him. You’d let him ruin you. 

“I love you, Connor.”

That’s all it takes for him, his rhythm growing sporadic and desperate as your walls clench around him. His hands cradle your face as he kisses you again. 

“I love you too.”

Even as the two of you came, he could only focus on you. The way your face contorted in unadulterated pleasure and love: a type of love reserved only for him. In all of his moments with you, there was no place he’d rather be than with you at one of your most vulnerable states.  

To him, you’re a work of art. With impossible depths of beauty, he wonders how you’re here right now in his arms, tangled in each other’s bodies and the bedsheets you shared. He puts a halt to his own doubts as he looks at your now sleeping form on his arm.

You love him, and he loves you. He casted his doubts aside. Looking at you and being with you, he realizes that nothing else matters.

_But everything is fine_  
_Don't give into despair_  
_Cause I love you, honeybear_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Praise and confessions of love? *nut* 
> 
> Once again, any kind of support or feedback is appreciated  
> ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡


End file.
